


Dave: Teach Karkat how to Twerk

by cthchewy (pyrrhic_victoly)



Series: Brofriendsprits 'verse [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Banter, Can Town, Crack, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Meteorstuck, Twerking, Xeno, booty shorts, brofriendsprits, by which i mean buttcracks, dat vantass, dave and karkat have a can-baby, karkat doesn't know he's a baby daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victoly/pseuds/cthchewy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title pretty much says it all. :x</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave: Teach Karkat how to Twerk

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme prompt: http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/39716.html?thread=43510564#cmt43510564

The Mayor chased you out of Can Town in order to do secret renovations to the entertainment district that sprawls across the eastern part of downtown. You can't blame him for wanting his genius vision to be a surprise, so you scram. After all, the little dude's doing it so that DJ Cantankerous can have better venues at which to lay down his strict beats. That basically means the Mayor's doing it just for you. He's so cute. You love that little guy.

You abscond with DJ Cantankerous, a nutrition cylinder of Extra Spicy Grubsauce upon which you have drawn awesome shades and tiny candy corn horns. DJ Cantankerous is your and Karkat's illicit lovegrub, of which Karkat has no knowledge. That will all change today, as you have plans to approach him, can-child in your arms ironically swaddled in a baby blanket made entirely of empty Doritos bags and Pop Tart wrappers, and you will say to him, "Hey Karkat hey Karkat hey. I mammal-birthed your wiggler out of my human nook, where's my child support."

That is what you planned on saying, but when you finally find Karkat, he's out on the surface of the meteor practicing with his sickles, lean muscles stretching out all prowly and crouch-y, plush rump bobbing up and down as he lunges, and what you actually say is, "Wow, bro, dat ass was made for twerking."

You can see it oh so clearly in your mind: Karkat as a bootylicious dancer in a music video. There would be a line-up of like five girls, or four girls and a troll, and Karkat would be the one in the middle. The girls all have sexy come-hither looks on their faces, but not Karkat. Oh no, [he'd be his regular grumpy self, just with the addition of some fine gluteal action](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3tpi1K1kv1r7difv.gif).

Karkat gets up from his prowly crouch and turns to face you. His eyes are narrowed with suspicion and also a hint of morbid curiosity. He fancies himself a bit of a xenosociologist - his words - and even though he's quick to spout off on how troll culture is so much better than human culture in every conceivable way, you still find him crying big red tears over human romcoms, so you know he's totally into a little xeno lovin'. (He also doesn't mind your tongue probing his mouth, so that was another clue.) Dude just gets all hilariously tsun-tsun over it.

"What is 'twerking'?" he asks. He even does the air quotes with his sickles.

It's at this moment that you, Dave Strider, master of irony, make it your life's goal to teach Karkat Vantas how to twerk. And what better way to start than with a practical demonstration?

You set your precious bundle gently on the ground and step over to Karkat, rolling your shoulders and loosening out your limbs in preparation for the performance of Karkat's life, the one that will blow his mind into a bucketful of slurry. "All right," you say, "this would go better with a beat, but I can make do."

Karkat frowns, but captchalogues his sickles and waits for your next move. But he'll never see this coming, you think, and then you pop a squat right in front of him and start shaking your ass. You twerk like you've never twerked before. You jut your bony ass as high as it will go, thrusting it at him - boom boom boom - to the imaginary bass. When you peek at him over your shoulder, you see that Karkat has gone all Error: Does Not Compute. His jaw's about to hit the ground and his eyes, fixated as they are on your mesmerizing jiggle, are starting to cross as you shake it closer and closer to him.

For your finishing move, you grind up against his bulge, letting your pajama-clad ass say a very intimate hello to Karkat's crotch monster. Knock knock, can tentadick come out to play? You know Karkat's blushing bright candy red when you feel a little squirming action coming from his pants. You rhythmically thump your ass right up on Little-kat and, just as he grunts in frustration and reaches to pull you to him, you flash step out of range.

"What. The egregious globe-fondling fuck. Was that." Karkat is just a tad bit breathless, you note. Job well done, Agent Strider.

"That was twerking, also known as the human mating dance."

"Stop pulling my frond, Strider. There's no way something so pan-rottingly stupid can be a way humans attract mates. You might as well say humans shove their thumbs up their nooks to release pheromones."

"No, Karkles, no. I'm so serious about this. Dead serious. I couldn't be more dead serious about this if you killed me right now. It would stick because it's a heroic death; I would have died defending the sanctity of the human mating dance." 

"All right, so let's just say this is true and you're not doing your hoofbeastshit lies for irony thing. How the fuck does that even work? The grinding against my bulge part I get, but what is the point of shaking glutes?"

"Dude, the shaking glutes was the main attraction. Are you saying trolls don't appreciate a good glute."

"I wouldn't be with _you_ if that was a thing that was important."

"Ouch, Vantas, you wound me and the two-by-four known as my ass. That's sad. What about hooters then?"

"How did this conversation end up in hooting featherbeasts. How."

"Titties. Ta-tas. Chesticles. Fun bags. Bazooms."

"Fuck you, Strider. Fuck your nonsense out to the Furthest Ring and into the hateful embrace of Nrub'yiglith's many mouths."

"...Enlarged mammary glands located on a girl's chest?"

Karkat visibly recoils, reeling back in a textbook example of Do Not Want. "They're fat deposits, Dave. Rumble spheres are-- my gog, have you been eroticizing my chest humps?!"

Yes, yes you have, even though Karkat doesn't really have any to speak of. You would laugh out loud at his freakout - it's as funny as the "oh my bulgesniffing fucknodes you really are mammals" freakout that he had following the human romcom binge where he first encountered images of pregnant women. You would laugh, but that would be breaking the Sacred Strider Pokerface.

"Protip: humans eroticize anything that jiggles or dangles in any way. Well, maybe not underarm flab, dunno about that one."

Karkat does that growly thing where he's losing patience with your bullshit and is like three seconds away from accusing you of trying to flip black on him. No matter how down you are with the trolls and their complicated romance, and even though you know humans can have hatesexy relationships too, that's just not you. Blackrom would be a nightmare for your squishy human feels because somewhere deep inside, under the million layers of irony, there's a little Dave (not your penis, but okay that too) that just wants to be loved tenderly. 

True enough, 3.14 seconds later he says, "Gogdamnit, you're trying to flip black on me, aren't you?"

"Calm your non-erotic tits, I'm just providing a little context for my request because you still owe me from when you taught me chittering-bug-noise mating calls."

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that heinous debacle ever again."

"Yeah but we also agreed that you owe me for at least being willing to try your weird as fuck troll courtship thing. C'mon, Karkat, that was sweet of me, right? Honey, baby, sugargrub." You hip-check him and he just scowls deeper.

"This better not be what I think it is."

"It is 100% what you think it is. Get ready to shake dat ass, crabcake."

 

\---

 

Karkat does not know how to move his choice ass. This is a travesty and you CANNOT LET IT STAND.

The first "lesson" was a failure. The two of you were in your room, your boatload of crap pushed out of the way to make a temporary dance floor, music videos were playing out on a big screen TV you alchemized just for this occasion, and Karkat's epic booty was shaking it like an epileptic instead of a Polaroid picture. It would have been sad if it wasn't A) hilarious, and B) still kind of sexy in a total dork sort of way.

But anyway, you think you've tracked down the source of the failure to the music videos. While you made sure to pick fine examples of dirty dancing, Karkat just wasn't getting it. Okay, so he's not a visual learner. Maybe a more hands-on approach would work.

It's surprisingly easy to convince your brofriendsprit to do "relationship things". Sure he'll complain at first, but he takes romance so seriously that you have no trouble at all getting him to play along with your ironic shenanigans so long as he thinks they are, in fact, "relationship things". It's not hard at all to convince him to come up to your room for another lesson.

The door is open. You've shoved your stuff aside again (holy shit why do you have so much stuff?) and are waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with another specially alchemized item hidden behind your back. You see him round the corner and give him an up-nod when he gets close enough.

"Hey. Got a thing for you."

"Yeah?" He's as suspicious as always, but he flushes, a nice subtle red blooming under gray skin, so you think he's probably eager, too.

You surreptitiously check both sides of the hall to make sure no one else is in range. You usher him in and close the door. There are no vents in your room because you do not ever want Ceiling Clown to watch you masturbate. So you and Karkat are all alone now, and you extend him your prize:

Cherry red booty shorts.

You dangle them in front of his face. He looks unimpressed.

"Is that… underwear?"

"They're booty shorts, the traditional garb of humans who perform the human mating dance."

"Huh. They look almost like Page shorts. I'm not sure if I should be offended by my apparent class change."

"Have some cultural sensitivity here. They're _traditional_."

Karkat rolls his eyes and snags the shorts from your hands. Hell to the fucking yes, trolls really have no hang ups about skintight clothing. Karkat goes to change behind a mound of smuppets and junk food while you thank paradox space for bodysuits being a normal thing for trolls.

"Dave, I don't think these will fit over my underwear. Should I just…?"

"Yeah." All the yeahs. You are the luckiest person, Dave. It is you.

He comes back out and you wonder if you should have alchemized a top for him too, but nah, baggy sweater over short shorts is a hella cute look on him. Your eyes keep drifting down to his legs and part of you thinks it's a shame that Karkat's such a fan of shapeless clothing because his legs are nice and he could really rock a pair of skinny jeans if he were inclined to wear them. The other part of you, the part that is a horribly needy wreck of a person and whose existence you will deny until every version of Dave Strider to ever inhabit a dream bubble is dead, is being a smug asshole about how no one else has seen Karkat this way; this is all for you, you lucky bastard. (The other other part of your brain has stopped functioning and is temporarily relocated to your boner.)

"Let's do something different this time," you say as you walk to the tangled mass of audio equipment in the corner. You put on a slower song with a clear wub, come back over and put your hands on Karkat's hips, try to get him to feel the beat. "C'mon, move with me, feel the rhythm."

Karkat's moves are stilted at first; he concentrates too intensely. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are screwed tightly shut. He looks like he's staring at yet another one of his ~ATH computer viruses, like he thinks he can make sense of all the infinite loops of paradox space if he just pays more attention. You've gotta admire his tenacity, but some things just don't work that way. "Loosen up," you say. "Don't overthink it, let your body do its thing."

Bit by bit, he melts into your embrace until the two of you are kind of slowly grinding against each other to the bass. You drop a few light kisses to his temple and to the tip of a horn, and then you bury your smile into his hair.

It's all going so well until Karkat falters. He misses a couple of steps and growls in frustration. "This is stupid, Dave. What the nookchafing fuck are these shorts made of? They're digging into places that should never see the light of the pink moon."

"Oh? Do tell. Show and tell, Vantas. It's the best part of elementary school, get to show all the kids what you're packing."

"I'm going to ignore whatever that was supposed to mean and say 'no'. No to every disgusting thing your rotting corpse of a thinkpan has just imagined. The answer is, was, and forever will be a 'no' bigger than Her Imperious Condescension's ego."

"I once brought my sword in for show and tell. Didn't even get to unsheathe it before they all started screaming. 'Oh noes, we can't handle your huge Striderian tool!' A lot of panicking went down that day."

"Back on topic, Dave. This is awkward."

"Awkward, how is this awkward? This is the epitome of cool. Only the coolest of bros get booty-short-wedgies. All others just get regular wedgies, or even no wedgies at all."

"It's fucking awkward because if I have to wear this 'traditional' outfit, so should you!" 

"What no. I'm the sensei here. It's me. Sensei doesn't have to wear anything but god tier jammies and maybe the occasional sicknasty suit if he's so inclined. Also I don't have the ass for it."

Karkat shoves you against the wall and grinds his knee on your crotch. You nearly jizz in your pants and it is very awkward, he's right, this whole situation is awkward. Awkwardly _sexy_. Unf.

He plants his hands on either side of you and nips at your jawline and holy shit that is unfair levels of hot where the hell did he learn that. He says, all raspy sex-voice, "For irony, Dave. Bro-hood, as I've come to understand it, is a form of human romance based entirely on irony. Are we not bros?"

"I…"

"Oh? Is Dave Strider speechless? You know you can't resist the irony."

Damn him! He knows your weakness! "I… can't… hnnng! Can't resist... the irony! Hold on, lemme go alchemize another pair."

Kanaya definitely doesn't catch you making "Very Interesting Fashion Choices" at the alchemiter. Rose definitely doesn't give you the drunken eyebrow waggle and offer to lend you her "fffffffuck me pmups. punps. pumps." When you pass by Can Town, the Mayor definitely doesn't gesture wildly about how irresponsible you are for having forgotten DJ Cantankerous up on the surface of the meteor like a week ago. Fuck. You never introduced Karkat to his offspring, which was the catalyst for all of this. Wow, you're a horrible mother.

Whatever. It's all worth it when you get back to your room to find Karkat practicing by himself. You slide on your own booty shorts - they're black with red hearts on the buttcheeks - and dance along with him.


End file.
